Beautiful, Dirty, Rich
by Auteur-Onirique
Summary: Mordern!AU Spoilers for next seasons. When they walk into Hardyng's club, all eyes were on them. They had everything : they were beautiful, they were rich, they were famous. And if you have someting they want, they will fuck you to have it. Rated T. OS.


**Hi, everybody ! **

**Here's a small Petyr x Sansa. Nothing big, just an idea I had to write. I heard 'Scream and Shout' (which is sooo NOT my type of music but, whatever..) and this came up. **

**I apologize now for all the mistakes in this OS : English is not my first language. **

**Hope you enjoy reading this ! (and pleaaaase review !)**

**Yours, **

**AO. **

Sansa arranged her make up in her pocket mirror while Petyr checks his tie for the n'th time this evening. He looks at her. He looks like an artist proud of his work before exposing it to curious greedy eyes.

- You're perfect, he assures her.

She smiles. She is not so sure of herself, but she will try.

The driver opens the door for Petyr who, as a gentleman, helps Sansa out of the car. Now, she is no longer Sansa. She is Alayne. Petyr's daughter. Everybody knows her mother is one of Petyr's whore but nobody dare tell it to her face. They rather look at her long uncovered legs.

There's already a long queue in front of the club but the Hardyng know better than to make such prestigious guests wait. One of the security member comes to them :

- Harry has been waiting for you, please, follow me.

Nobody dares protest when they skip the entier queue. Everybody's eyes are on them. They are everything everybody wants to be. They are beautiful : Petyr has beautiful indescriptible eyes and a smirk that makes every girls melt, Alayne is tall, thin, she has skin as pale as snow. They are successful : they unofficially own the whole Arryn's company. They are rich beyound measure : everybody knows that, tomorrow, they will meet the Greyjoys on one of their yoat. They have taste : Alayne has Louboutin heels that matches her tight black skirt and Petyr's dark tuxedos are the _nec plus ultra_ of the fashion.

They enter the club. The music is already loud and the lights are blinding. Nothing they haven't seen before. A few buisness men, already drunk, are screaming along with the music without knowing the lyrics. Petyr looks at them scornfully and guides Alayne to the bar, ordering something sweet and alcoholic for his equally sweet daughter. As she is sipping her drink, he points out one of the drunken buisness men, a tall young man with short brown hair, his jacket forgotten and his tie loose :

- Be perfect for me, sweetling, he whispers in her ear.

She has a small perfect pout :

- If all the buisness men could be as elegant as you...

- I know, sweetheart, I know... But don't mess up daddy's plan. Make him see how you can fuck a man up.

She bits her lower lip and walks though the crowd to Harry the Heir. Petyr smiles.

Lysa Tully - a bitch too old to go in clubs with the power Petyr covets - takes it as an invitation and pays for all his drinks, talks to him about her poor son Robert's problems, how she feels lonely and needy, how he is sexy, how he arouses her, how she wants him...

Petyr smiles and answers back with witty comments, encouraging her, going as far as to put a strand of red hair behind her ear - at least, her hair will look a bit decent - but he cannot avert his eyes from the dancefloor, not for long.

Alayne did as she was told : she walked towards Harry like a wolf toward it's prey and, without even having to introduce herself, she sat on his lap, as he told her, as he showed her. Petyr found it funny Sansa had to change her name, to loose her family to finally become more like a wolf -her family's sigil - than she never was when being in the pack. Oh, she wasn't the kind of wolf her little sister is : she doesn't hit people, she doesn't scream insults at them, she doesn't run away...

Sansa stays. That's what she does. She faces her fate, she obeys to survive, she submits to command. She's the most clever wolf he ever saw. That most beautiful too. She kisses the corner of Harry's mouth and drags him to the dancefloor. Another slutty song comes up : the Hardyng have very poor taste in music. But he trained Alayne. She can dance. She can look sexy as hell without looking too slutty. Just enough to make Harry's blood burn. He is sweaty and flushed. Petyr hates him, hates his clothes, hates his manners but he loves his fortune, he loves his company, so he says nothing and slips his drink.

She makes his blood burn too. She has divine long legs. She knows how to move, how to let go of her body and still look elegant. Unlike the slutty bitches that have too much drink before stepping on the dancefloor that overcrowd the Hardyng's club.

Later, as Petyr takes Lysa's legs and move them around his body as he is thrusting in her in the club's restrooms, he can berely hears anything but Lysa slutty and disgusting moans. But he still can hear Harry's slurred voice and Alayne's false giggles. He knows what se is doing : he told her to do so. He can't have Alayne soiled by this beast yet. Not before Harry falls so deeply in love with her he marries her before knowing she really is. But he taught her how to handle a cock without having to open her legs. He taught her how to get on her knees and she done it so prettily for him he doubts Harry could resist her even if he wanted.

Alayne is glad Harry is so drunk, so that he doesn't see the tears that glisten in her eyes or the disgust painted on her face like her make-up as she takes his... thing in her mouth. She wonders if her family will ever forgive her this but that doesn't matter : they let her rot here so she had to find one way or another to protect herself. She had to, since nobody will give her her home back but Petyr.

Petyr finds Alayne bent on the sink when he comes out of the cubbicle he shared with Lysa. Harry already left and Lysa is regaining her breath. Alayne plounged a toothbrush in her throat deep enough to vomit. She now was whasing her pretty mounth. He watches her, running a protective hand up and down her back in a comforting gesture. When she lifts her head, holding her little chin high, he can see she cried but now her eyes are dry. She apologizes for her face being in a mess with a small voice before arranging her lipstick in the mirror.

Petyr whispers in her ear :

- They think they fucked us, sweetling. But we fucked them.

A small little smile reaches her lips :

- That's what we do, she says with Alayne's controlled sexy voice.

When they leave the club few hours later, the queue still waiting to be admitted inside looks at them with admiration in their innocent eyes. Alayne can't help but smile at Petyr's arm. Yes, he was right. She will fuck them all.


End file.
